Lockeroom Stink - Part 1

That was my favorite part of football practice. I loved it when Coach blew his whistle and called it quits for the day. Not that I didn't mind practice. It's just that lately, Coach had been driving the team extra hard as we landed a berth in the state, high school championship game against the Spartans of Palo Alto.

The grueling heat had us all grunting and sweating profusely. I couldn't wait to hit the lockeroom for a shower but, more refreshing of all, to be absorbed in the aroma of that special scent which high school jocks gave off.

It was a scent that drove me up a wall. It was a scent that combined all the ripe odors of young men in a confined space. It was a kind of stink that some jocks took for granted as part of the territory and for others, like myself, a kind of stink that sent shivers up and down my spine and a tingle in my cock.

Too, I enjoyed the comraderie of the team in the lockeroom after a grueling practice. The shouts echoing around the room as each guy stripped and headed towards the showers. The banter of guys snapping towels on firm asses and the ever present sight of naked flesh and jockstraps, sneakers and sweatsocks carelessly tossed aside, their ripe stench always a welcome breath of fresh air to me.

I couldn't explain it. This affinity for the odors of men. It was as if each guy was marking his own territory. His own scent which permeated not only from his body but from his locker too that, when it wafted up my nostrils, made me tingly all over. I began to wonder if I was some kind of freak.

When I heard the guys boasting of their sexual conquests, how they'd scored with their girlfriends, that it was all okay aside from the stink of pussy, that made me wonder why I was different. Why did I find what others found stink and disgusting to be erotic?

Mind you. Not that I'm into chicks. I figured that out a long time ago. Guys turned me on. Wrestling around with my brothers, especially with my older brother, Hank, and on occassion with my Dad, that closeness and that marked scent they gave off only served to arouse me.

With girls that never happened.

It seemed that only around guys and their distinctive aromas was I able to bone up and feel sexually stimulated.

"Fuck! I'm beat, Denny!"

"Aren't we all?" I asked, or rather stated as my best friend, Jared, plopped down beside me on the bench facing our lockers.

As he pulled off his helmet I could see that his hair was soaked with sweat. Droplets of his sweat, like rain, seemed to fall from his hair onto his shoulders and streak down his face.

"You did real good today, Jared." I said, nonchalantly stealing glances at my buddy as he pulled his gear off. Tossing his jersey, shoulder pads and shorts aside, he sat down next to me clad only in his jockstrap, sweatsocks and sneakers and sighed.

"Thanks, Denny. You looked good out there too. Only hope Coach feels the same way."

"I'm sure he does," I said, clasping my hand on Jared's shoulder and giving it a firm squeeze. "He's not all slave driver and no heart.

After all, look at us! Going to the state championship, buddy!"

"Yeah! Fuck yeah, man! We're number one, Denny! There's gonna be scouts out there watchin' us play and you and me ..."

"What?"

"We'll land a college scholarship playin' football real easy!"

I had to admire Jared's enthusiam. The twinkle in his green eyes and his winning smile and his overall jovial nature is what drew me to him ever since we became friends in elementery school. We were inseparable.

Although not related by blood we were brothers in every sense of the word.

Through the years I watched as he matured into a fine, young man. His classic Italian features and the meticulous attention he gave to his body reminded me of Michaelangelo's statue of the youthful David.

Exquisite in every detail.

I took all of this in as Jared plopped himself beside me on the bench facing our lockers, absorbing his masculine beauty and that scent which was uniquely his.

"You know, Jared." I said, hanging my head.

"What?"

"You really need to wash that jock of yours, man!"

"Think so?" Jared asked, rubbing his crotch and lifting his hand to his face, sniffing. "This is my lucky jock, Denny! It's gotten us through an undefeated season!"

Jared's stink, his funk shot straight up my nostrils. Coupled with the tangy stench of his unwashed jockstrap, his lucky strap as he called it, together, along with the the other odors swirling through the air, only served to excite me. My cock instantly responded to the stink my nose had detected. As if my sense of smell and my cock were connected, as though they were one and the same membrane, I could feel my dick tingle and throb.

"What's the matter, Denny?" Jared laughed. "My stink turnin' you on?"

I could feel the blood coursing through my veins. As Jared rubbed his moist, funky armpit over my face, oblivious to the other guys in the lockeroom walking by whooping and hollering, passing Jared's actions off as mere antics between one jock to another, I could feel my cock tingle with excitement as I breathed my buddy's stench.

"Fuck you, Jared!" I hissed, pulling my head away and trying to play things off.

"Looks to me like the bull is tryin' to bust outta the barn door!"

Jared said, standing up and thrusting his crotch into my face.

The pungent aroma of Jared's pouch shot up my nostrils. The pouch that had gone unwashed all season long. The pouch that had craddled his cock and balls and every single drop of sweat, piss and god only knows what else was pressing against my face.

"Smell it, buddy! I did! Fuckin' stinks don't it," Jared whispered.

"You're not the first to cop a whiff of my stinky pouch, man! And you won't be the last!"

"Go for it, Denny!" Roger Henderson hissed, as he passed by slapping me on the back. "Sniff the team's lucky mascot!"

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. It all happened so suddenly.

For all intent and purpose, outwardly it could be construed as jock banter. Like butt slapping or slingshotting the jockstrap around the lockeroom which even Coach participated in.

>From time to time I had felt the stinging blow of Coach's palm to my bare backside and to tell the truth, a probing digit into my sweaty cleft and the passing of a finger under nostrils with a smile and a raucous laugh. But I passed it all off as nothing but jock banter.

My head swam with thoughts of Jared and I. The two of us, together doing the nasty that only two jock studs could share not betraying one anothers' masculinity. Smelling Jared's stink plunged my mind into a dark, seedy world that made me wonder if Jared was merely talking the talk but unwilling or hesitant to walk the walk.

What did Roger or Coach, or others for that matter, know about Jared that I didn't? After all, I had known him since the first grade! Who better could know him than me? Yet now, the reality was sinking in that, what I had perceived as comarderie between Jared and others, was now a stark reality of Jared's inner need. Not just to be the center of attention but the need to be pleasured as well as giving his particular brand of pleasure to those who would have it. My only thought now, as Jared grinded his sweaty, funky crotch onto my face was, were his needs like mine? Or were they just for show? A sense of power, control or dominance? In the end would he yield to his inner lust and surrender that which he seemed to give so willingly?

Chapter 2

"Fuck! Take it easy, Denny!" Jared gasped, as he felt my hands roaming upwards towards the full, ample mounds of his ass.

"What's the matter, fucker?" I asked, my hot breath upon his steamy pouch, straining to confine his rising, throbbing dick. "Talk the talk but don't walk the walk, Jared?"

"Fuck, man!" Jared sighed, entwining his fingers in my hair and drawing me closer to his ripe crotch. "Just want you to take your time, buddy.

"That so?" I asked, sighing. Drawing his rancid pouch into my mouth, the stink swirling up my nostrils, I moaned along with Jared as I clamped my lips around the swollen head of his dick, slurping and sucking at it through the crusty pouch, as our teamates walked passed us heading towards the showers as if what I was doing was nothing out of the ordinary but something that a fellow jock would do for his buddy in the privacy of the lockeroom, among guys who understood the needs of guys.

"Fuck yeah!" Voices echoed throughout the lockeroom. Some acknowledging what was transpiring between Jared and I. And for others, an acknowledgement of the pleasure they were giving and receiving from a fellow teamate.

"Suck his stink, motherfucker!" A voice whispered, in a deep husky voice. "Taste his funk!"

With glassy, lust crazed eyes, I turned towards the direction of the voice.